


An Opportunity Used and Misused

by Loxare



Series: Gen Batfam Week 2017 [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Cluemaster's Code, Gen, Gen Batfam Week 2017, Prompt: Wayne Gala, Tim is salty, bruce is so done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxare/pseuds/Loxare
Summary: During a gala in honour of Jason Todd's passing, and the opening of a charity foundation in his name, Tim sees an opportunity and uses it.





	An Opportunity Used and Misused

It was the latest trend amongst the wealthy. One that Tim thought to be in rather bad taste, although some people used the opportunity to do good.

A remembrance ceremony for the long departed was how the invitations read. Families would host a party to remember the lost child/parent/sibling/miscellaneous other relative who had passed years earlier. Not to grieve, but to remember them as they had been, and celebrate all the ways they still affected the lives of those left behind.

Some of the less heartless people would use the opportunity to raise money to combat the illness or violence or what-have-you that had taken their loved ones from them. For example, the Hamiltons collected several million dollars which was donated in its entirety to pancreatic cancer research. Unfortunately, most used the trend as an excuse to hold a gala and impress important people.

Bruce had been pressured into doing one by several of his socialite peers. The one for his parents had been last month, during which Bruce and a hundred others donated to removal of street crime, opening of orphanages and homeless shelters, and production of low-experience jobs. The usual collection that Bruce had been donating to for over a decade.

Of course, after the party, more than one of the party goers – most of them the ones who hadn't donated, the ones who just wanted the prestige of going to a Wayne Gala – had called Bruce's office, asking when the one for “that Todd boy” would be.

Tim stifled a laugh at the thought, covering it with a sip of champagne. Red Hood had spent the week before slaughtering most of Falcone's drug trade. Bruce had, with gritted teeth, told his secretary to inform any callers that the remembrance ceremony for Jason Todd would be held soon.

It was rather hypocritical of them to demand a party in Jason's honour when most of those lowlife bluebloods had spent the entirety of Jason's childhood mocking him and informing him to his face that he was a simple street rat who deserved none of what Bruce had given him. Not to mention the allegations that they loved to spread around as to _why_ Bruce had taken Jason in. The same allegations that had cropped up when Dick had been taken in, and Tim. The same allegations that numerous CPS agents had declared unfounded. Luckily, Damian was being spared the same treatment, and Tim hoped Duke would be too.

One of the prime allegation-spreaders was heading towards Tim. He plastered his best smile on his face, because although he would love nothing more than to punch the man, he couldn't. _But Tim_ , the unhelpful voice of unreasonableness said, _This is a party in Jason's honour. And you know he would love nothing more than for you to sock this guy in the face_.

Yeah, but Tim also had to negotiate a deal with him in the morning. “Mr. Gate, I'm glad you could make it. Is Mrs. Gate here? We have a selection of cherry tarts that I believe she would adore.”

“Timmy old boy!” Gate, founder of Gateway Pharmaceuticals, clapped Tim on the back. Hard. “It's great to be here! Sadly, Mrs. Gate won't be joining us. She's come down with a bug.” No, she'd just become tired of her husband insulting her at parties and playing it off as a joke. Tim had found her in the bathroom at the Whittaker Gala and given her some advice and the card for WE Law Department's best divorce lawyer. Tim would have to make sure to send the invitation to Mrs. Gate only next time.

“Sad to hear it.” Tim said. “I do hope she can come to the next one.” They parted cordially, Mr. Gate clapping Tim hard on the spine again as he went looking for Bruce, Tim going over the eventual takeover of his company, starting with the meeting tomorrow.

He mingled for another hour. Eventually, he found himself face to face with the table set up to inform people not in the know the circumstances surrounding Jason's death. Well, the official story anyways. During a volunteer mission in Ethiopia giving medicine to those in need, the warehouse that had stored the medicine had been targeted by insurgents. Jason had died trying to get warehouse workers out. It was a good story, and close enough to the truth to be a good lie too.

Finally, when his cheeks were starting to ache from the forced nature of his smile, he caught up to Dick, who was being flirted at by a rather lovely girl who was closer to Tim's age than Dick's. Dick looked supremely uncomfortable. “There you are!” Tim smiled as Dick's eyes lit up. Red Robin to the rescue once again. “Bruce was looking for you. He wants you to meet with the police commissioner, to discuss funding for the department.” He turned to the girl, Alison Marsden, and smiled ruefully. “I'm sorry to take him from you. Maybe I can keep you company instead?”

Alison blushed and Dick clapped an appreciative hand on his shoulder. Tim was able to keep Alison occupied until her mother came looking for her, and accepted her phone number with a promise to call. And he would. She was funny and charming and even though she deserved better than him, he would like to get to know her better. Perhaps they would do business one day.

Finally, the time for speeches started. Bruce's was short, morose. He focused on who Jason had been – a bright and charming boy, cut down too soon – and finished by announcing the Todd Foundation, a charity organization funding literacy in children in all walks of life, and which would be where the donations for the evening would be going.

Dick's was simple. He told his favourite story from when Jason had been alive, the one weekend he'd been able to drag him away from the city and go camping. It was filled with laughs for his attentive audience, from their tent floating away because Jason hadn't staked it to a bear eating all their hamburgers while Dick and Jason sat in a tree.

The experience hadn't stopped Dick though. He'd taken Tim camping three times, each time more successfully than the last. Their last camping trip had been completely normal, except for the squirrels chucking pine cones at their tent at 4am.

Then, finally, Tim's speech came up. He strode up to the podium, clearing his throat just before he got there so it wouldn't get picked up by the mic. He hoped his speech wouldn't sound too stilted. “Jason Todd. Although I never had the privilege of meeting the boy who had been lost to this family, I feel like I knew him. So often, Bruce or Dick or Alfred would get a far away look in their eyes and give me a snippet as to who he had been. Often it was a story, or a habit, or how he helped Alfred around the house. Needless to say, I feel like I know him pretty well.”

Dick, who had been nodding along, melancholy all over his face, shot his head up, giving Tim a quizzical look. Of course he would have been the one to notice.

"In all the stories, he struck me as a protector. Someone who would have given his life saving someone else. A hero, if you would, although not in the same way as the heroes who grace our fair city.” Tim paused, for emphasis mostly. Dick, in the audience, was openly gaping at him. Steph, his plus one, was shoving canapes in her mouth to stifle the laughter. Bruce looked disappointed. “Death has taken him, as it has taken so many, but he went as he would have wanted to go. In his mission to Ethiopia, he saved dozens of lives. Never hesitating, never wavering. Greatness isn't a word many would use to describe him, considering his humble beginnings,” and yes, that was a direct dig at the people who had mocked Jason when he was a kid, “but in that moment, and in many moments before that, he was truly great. Understanding that his death was a tragedy, but also a victory, can only help us through it. So Jason, we miss you, and we thank you for showing us how to be great.”

Tim bowed a little, thanking the people for their time, and walked off the stage. Not bad, didn't sound too choppy he thought. His throat was a little dry though.

Steph was the first to intercept him, while he was getting punch. “I am so proud of you. Dad's code, really?”

Tim grinned. “It was a bit tricky, but so worth it.” He wasn't a wordsmith, so writing his speech had been torture. He winced thinking about it, and took a sip of his punch.

Steph was still trying not to laugh when Dick came up to them. “He's going to kill you.” “He” probably being Jason. “Did you have to use that particular one?”

“It's the only one that I know all of us know. Including Jason.” And Jason would definitely find out. The speeches had been recorded, to be put on the Todd Foundation's web page, and Jason had always had a morbid fascination with his death and how people had reacted to it. And he was far too smart to miss such an obvious code, especially when Cluemaster had been active during his Robin years.

Cass strode up from whichever corner she'd melted into for the entirety of the gala, pinching him hard on the leg. “Silly little brother. What if someone else notices it?” But she was smiling, as only Cass could.

Tim adopted his most innocent expression. “But dear sister, it was an accident! Truly, an unfortunate one. I was trying to pay homage to my departed sibling, who I sadly never knew. And now these accusations are being thrust upon me!”

Cass pinched him again, a warning this time as some eager reporter came within earshot, making a show of taking her time picking out hors d'oeurves as the Wayne children (and guest) chatted about the party and the guests and the speeches. Eventually, Steph “noticed” the reporter's difficulties, pointing out her favourites on the table. Tim and Dick joined in, Cass just picking up a chocolate strawberry and eating it. Tomorrow, there would be a puff piece about the Wayne children's favourite foods.

Eventually, Damian spotted them and walked over. “Based on Grayson's reaction, there was something more to Drake's mediocre speech than there appeared.” He paused, long enough for all of them to guess what he wanted, but making him say it. Dick said it was good for him to learn to ask people for stuff. “Well? What was it?”

Dick smiled, shifting his weight until he was standing close to Damian, but not quite touching him yet. “The Cluemaster's Code. First letter of each sentence spells out the secret message.”

Damian went through it, his perfectly trained memory giving him every syllable of Tim's speech. “Hm. Infantile, but I can't fault it.” And even though he looked a little ill at the thought, he managed to force out the next sentence. “Adequate work Drake.”

“Thanks Damian.” He didn't need the kid's praise, but Dick had told him to try being nice. So this was nice.

The kid nodded, leaning back slightly so his shoulder was against Dick's arm. At the invitation, Dick wrapped an arm around Damian's shoulders, giving him a squeeze. Damian smiled slightly at the praise.

“Uh oh.” Steph looked up from her plate full of cream puffs and blanched. “Incoming. See you in the next life Tim.”

“Will miss you Tim.” Cass gave him a peck on the cheek, waving as she followed Steph, Dick and Damian far enough away to not get caught in the crossfire, but close enough to eavesdrop.

Bruce just gave them all knowing looks, before turning a disapproving one on Tim. “Really?”

“Uh huh.” Tim took a sip of punch, then topped off his glass. “I had had another one written, but that got scrapped two weeks ago.” Two weeks ago, Red Hood had sniped one of Red Robin's targets, one with vital information for his case. He had eventually found his bank robber, but it had taken an additional three days.

Bruce just gave out a long suffering sigh. If Tim had to guess, he was lamenting ever taking on a Robin. Either that or thinking he was getting too old for this. Wisely, he left it at that and went to go drown his sorrows in thoughts of justice.

Tim smiled and grabbed a mini quiche. Not bad, as far as these things went.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Gen Batfam Week day 3 is Wayne Gala, as in the tags.
> 
> Yes, the Cluemaster's Code is a thing from the comics. The first letter of each sentence spells out the code. This one spells out, "Jason is a dingus," in case anyone was wondering.
> 
> There is a very wonderful companion [fanart](https://arrowcomix.tumblr.com/post/161836002554/a-companion-piece-for-loxares-story-an) by Arrowcomix!
> 
> Hey. You can prompt me for the week [here](https://loxare.tumblr.com/ask). Actually, you can prompt me any time there.


End file.
